


Wine

by namenlos



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Gen, Underage Drinking, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namenlos/pseuds/namenlos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guy-Manuel manages to get himself in trouble babysitting Thomas' preteen son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine

Starring Thomas Bangalter, Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, and OCs

Current Era (RAM)

 

Guy’s POV

My heart ached when I looked at him. It hurt even more when I looked at… her. _How could he be happy with… her?_ I’d think to myself, even though they were obviously very happy together. The son they had together was even more proof of that. Well… I had a son also, but his mother and I were no longer together. Not to say we were ever ‘together’… I suppose it was just a fling. No… I wouldn’t call it that, either. Ah, _merde._ My one-night stand with her was an attempt on my part. An attempt to try to forget the true object of my affection. The one I pined for but could never have… Thomas.

“Where were you, Guillaume?” Mélani asked. I cringed at my ‘proper’ name. Mélani was my ‘girlfriend.’ That is, she was at my side during personal outings and professional appearances. It was a financial arrangement, though we were longtime friends even before that. What was really funny about the whole thing was that Mélani was a lesbian, and needed me as much as I did to appear to her friends and family as her significant other. Which brings me to another point: Yes, I was gay. Uh… I think. I mean… maybe I liked girls a little bit. I just never felt a connection to any of them in the way that I felt with Thomas. I’d once thought Thomas felt the same way, but he always shied away from any form of affection towards me or from me. When he finally met and married Inès, and had a son with her, I realized he was just straight, plain and simple.

_Sigh._

“Just out, Mae,” I replied, giving her an affectionate kiss on the forehead. I smoothed down her short, brown hair lovingly. It was safe to say I did love Mélani. She was one of my best, longtime friends after all. It was just merely platonic love, that’s all. “Out for a cruise.” I had a motorbike and often went out alone, though occasionally took her along just to let her make an appearance with me. Of course, any time I was spotted by myself, the rumours would fly that there were problems between us. 

_Fuck’s sake. I just couldn’t win._

Mélani stuck her nose arrogantly in the air. “I suppose I’ll just pick up the next tabloid and read all about how there is trouble in paradise.”

“Sorry, Mae,” I apologized. “I needed some time to clear my head.”

Mélani giggled. “Some time to clear your head of Thomas?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. _“Non,”_ I insisted. “It’s not always about Thomas, okay?”

Mélani giggled again. _“Désolé, mon lapin,”_ she apologized.

I blushed. She had a habit of calling me her bunny even though it was a slightly familiar term to be using between a pair of friends. Fine for public, when we were supposed to use those terms, but in private it merely set my face on fire. She stood up and leaned down to kiss my forehead -- she was quite a few inches taller than me -- and ran her fingers through my shaggy hair. 

“I’m going out,” she announced. “With a friend.”

“A girlfriend?” I teased.

“Maybe…” she smiled coyly.

“Have fun,” I told her as she grabbed the keys to the car and headed out.

Just as I settled in to watch some television and have a glass of wine or two, my cell phone rang. I checked the name and perked up when I saw it was Thomas. _“Bonjour,_ Thomah,” I greeted him. _“Ça va?”_

“Listen, Guy-Man,” Thomas began. “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Well, as a matter of fact…”

“Wine and television. I know. So predictable, Guy.”

“You got me,” I replied. “So what’s up?”

“I need you.”

“Uh… c-come again?” I stammered.

“Can you come over or not?” Thomas pressed, ignoring my confusion.

“Y-yes,” I answered, still unsure what this was all about.

“Good. See you when you get here.”

\---

 _“Bonjour,_ Guy-Man,” Inès greeted me at the door, smoothing her long, brown hair behind her ears. “Thomas is in the kitchen.”

 _“Merci,”_ I replied politely, heading to the kitchen. I found Thomas at the dining table, appearing to be helping his 12-year-old son Noah with his homework.

“Thank you for coming, Guy-Man. Our babysitter cancelled at the last minute, and we have reservations at La Veraison.”

“You want me to…”

“To keep Noah company, yes. He’s… old enough to stay alone, but we kind of don’t want to leave him by himself so late at night.”

“Fine,” I sighed. “Hey Noah, what’s up?” 

Noah had long, shoulder-length brown hair, and really resembled his mother. Thomas once mentioned that the boy looked more like me than himself. I didn’t know if he was implying something, or just saying. I won’t deny that Noah kind of looked like me, but I’ve never once been intimate with Inès. It was no secret that I hated her with a passion. Hm, I suppose it was just a coincidence that she and I had similar features.

“Oh, not much, _Oncle_ Guy. Just homework.”

“Ah, I see,” I responded, waving dismissively to Thomas.

He mouthed another ‘thank you’ to me, and quietly crept away.

“Can I help you with anything?” I offered, sitting down in the chair Thomas had just vacated.

“No, I’m just finishing. Thanks though.”

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” I told Noah, standing up. 

Once in the living room, I opened the liquor cabinet and produced a bottle of red wine. Probably shouldn’t be drinking on the ‘job,’ but a couple of glasses wouldn’t hurt anything. I settled down on the sofa in front of the television with my glass of wine and found something suitable to watch. Noah came in a short while later and sat down next to me. 

“Hey _Oncle,”_ he addressed me. “How about a glass of wine? I promise not to tell mama and papa that you gave it to me.”

“Uh…” I was seriously considering it. Perhaps a glass of wine would put the kid to bed. I got up and went over to the liquor cabinet and poured another glass. “No telling,” I emphasized, handing the glass to Noah. I looked around, paranoid that someone might see me. Ridiculous, I know. But I had every right to be paranoid. Thomas would kill me. Not to mention Inès would probably never let me near her son ever again.

“I already promised not to tell,” Noah reminded me, taking a big gulp of the wine. 

_Good,_ I thought. _The kid’s gonna lay himself out. Easiest babysitting job ever._

“Can I have some more?” Noah requested, snapping me out of my thoughts. I quickly turned my head to look at Noah. 

_Holy shit, that was fast._

_“Merde…_ already?!” I exclaimed.

“Please?” pleaded Noah.

“Fuck…” I swore, not caring that Noah was there. I’m sure his dad said that word around him on a daily basis, anyway. “Alright, one more, but then you have to go to bed,” I compromised.

“Alright,” Noah moaned. I poured him one more glass and watched him as he chugged it down.

“Damn, Noah,” I gasped. “Have you done this before?”

Noah shrugged. “Papa gives me wine all the time.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. Somehow I doubted that. Well, I don’t doubt that Thomas would give his kid wine, but I seriously doubt he’d do it where Inès would find out about it.

“If you don’t believe me, ask him,” Noah challenged.

“And get myself in trouble? No thanks,” I countered. “Now, it’s off to bed for you.”

“But I want some more!” Noah whined, stomping his foot. I never knew Thomas’ kid was such a spoiled brat. Must be like Mama.

“Fine, kid. Just don’t tell on me.”

Long story short, the kid and I polished off two bottles of red wine between the two of us, and were both pretty drunk by the time Mama and Papa got home. Oops. I managed to shove the kid upstairs to bed before they could see him, but I was still going to be in some major trouble. Might as well face the music… 

“Thomaaaah!” I loudly greeted Thomas as he and Inès walked through the door. I drunkenly threw my arms around him and kissed him once on each cheek, then once on the lips.

“Guy-Man, what the fuck?” Thomas recoiled, wiping his lips. “Are you… drunk?”

 _“Non, non,_ I had a couple of glasses of wine. That’s all.”

“Glasses? Or bottles?” Thomas outwardly wondered, noticing the two empty bottles on the coffee table.

“Glasses, bottles… what’s the difference?” I slurred.

“Guy-Man! How dare you?” Inès hissed at me. “Drinking when you’re supposed to be watching my son?!”

The slap was pretty much expected. Bitch couldn’t wait to have a reason to give me good one. But Thomas being the one to throw me out was not expected at all.

“Out!” Thomas rumbled. “Out of my house, you… you…!” he stuttered, too angry to even finish his thought. The tall, awkward man stuttered even when he wasn’t boiling over with anger. He grabbed me by the shoulder of my shirt and dragged me to the door, opening it and shoving me out. I staggered and actually fell, but seeing how angry the both of them were, I jumped up and scurried off as quickly as I could.

 _You really fucked up,_ I mentally reprimanded myself. _Big time._

Ugh. This was so fucking stupid of me. Stupid _batard._

**Author's Note:**

> I don't speak French, so sorry if I murdered it~
> 
> Might be more to this, don't know yet.


End file.
